Transcending Perim
by ChaoticCommander
Summary: A dark threat looms over the horizon, jeopardizing both players and Creatures alike. Tom doesn't understand the role he has to play, nor why he keeps hearing music in his head, but he is certain that whatever forces are at play will change his life and the ones of those around him.
1. Chapter 1

Transcending Perim: Part 1

By Chaotic Commander

It was the usual kind of day at the port court; the robots whisked past the humans in a blur, cleaning and delivering any wants to the teens that were staring transfixed at the ongoing matches. Players attentively watched the enormous screens and enthusiastically shouted encouragement to the combatants; yet one table's occupants were more excited than most, for this was a tough match for their friend and he had been particularly nervous upon the battle's introduction.

Tom had finally accumulated the required seven wins to be challenged by Codemaster Oron in his iconic green battle drome. As he and his friends had never seen or had a match with Oron, the Over-World player found himself in a strategically awkward position. Tom had asked around, investigating any player who had a match with the elusive Codemaster, but they all answered with the same foreboding message: _'you're going to go down. Fast.'_ It wasn't too much of a confidence boost, but he had to work with what he had been given. At the very least, Tom had heard that Oron used creatures that he had never even heard of, although he had expected as much from his former experiences with Crellen and Hotekk. Tom was almost positive that his opponent was going to use pre-historic creatures, and when the board revealed the selections, he cursed himself for being right.

The match had only taken five minutes. The court had been silent during its entirety; no one had been able to find his or her voice. For those watching, it was like a car crash, the imminence of a horrible occurrence but being unable to look away from it all. Five minutes was all it took for Tom to be destroyed. Five minutes for his friends to witness the onslaught. Five minutes for all of the players in Chaotic to be reminded that the Masters were proclaimed as such for a very real reason. Five minutes without mercy.

When Tom returned to the port court, he expected to be ridiculed; he was the player who had been able to defeat not one, but two Codemasters! But he had been devastated in this last match, taking out only two of Oron's creatures. Tom mentally braced himself and clenched his jaw as he crossed the threshold into the central chamber that housed the food court and the masses that enjoyed the show_. 'Some entertainment I was,'_ Tom thought ruefully. He looked straight into the crowd of bustling players, which was unnaturally subdued and quiet.

"Tom!" A familiar voice shouted through the suffocating silence. The recognizable flash of ginger colored hair weaving in and about the other teens and kids approached swiftly; soon, the Over-World player's best friend stood before him and rested a hand on his arm. "You okay?" Kaz asked timidly, his brown eyes trained on the sullen form of Tom through his rose tinted glasses.

"I guess," Tom replied with a twitch of a smirk. "I mean, I know that Codemasters are the best of the best, but that was just-" he stopped short, searching for the right words. "It just seemed so one-sided fighting him, as if he knew everything I was doing before I managed to even try to do it." Tom shrugged under Kaz's loose grip, "The only way I hit was when I was just reacting, tapping into the abilities and memories of my creatures." He reflected on how it felt -the sense of having someone else guide his inexperienced movements so that they'd find their mark- briefly before sighing to release the tension in his shoulders. "So, what's with everyone? They look like they've seen a funeral."

"Well, we were planning yours," Kaz retorted sarcastically, a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. Tom just responded to the taunt with an overly un-amused expression as a way of trying to get his friend to laugh.

"I suppose you would have planned to speak," Tom mused as the duo approached their usual table. He used his best impersonation of Kaz's voice as he said "'Dear friends, we are gathered here today to mourn the loss of Thomas Majors. He was a great person and avid Chaotic player, but apparently, not good enough, otherwise he'd still be with us right now. Oh, and Under-Worlders rule.'" Tom stated as he sat down across from a very confused Sarah and Peyton, the latter of which was babbling away excitedly about some new Mipedian secrets that he'd learned of because he was 'so tight with his Mipedian bros that they were almost like family.' When Peyton relented in his speech, he faced his Tom with his broad smile.

"Yo, Major-T! I was beginnin' to think that you and Kazzer lost your way back!" He relaxed in his chair, the folds of his yellow shirt crumpling a little as he moved. "So, how'd it go against Oron?" The question slipped out of his mouth so casually, just like how he'd ask about every other match that his friends battled in even when he'd watched the match himself.

"Peyton!" Sarah hissed as she elbowed him in the arm. Kaz shot his larger friend a nervous glare. Tom, however, took the question with good humor and snickered. Of course Peyton would ask that, it _was_ just a match after all, not some life changing experience. _'Besides,'_ Tom reasoned, _'Can't win them all, especially with the Codemasters.'_

"It was tough, like, _in another league_ tough. I couldn't seem to get this guy," Tom began to explain. "His creatures they were beyond strong, and he moved like he knew how I was going to strike."

"But he never used 'Song of Future Sight,'" Sarah interjected. "How could he have known what you were going to do without it?"

"Maybe his creatures had some kind of mind reading ability," Kaz theorized. "That way, he wouldn't have needed anything like Mugic to see what would happen next."

"I suppose it's possible." Sarah huffed. "But that would be totally unfair! How're you supposed to have a chance against a guy who can see what you're doing before you even try?"

"But that's just it," Tom explained, "Oron could predict _my_ moves, but not the ones I just allowed to happen with my creatures. Like that Flash Kick that I used as Maxxor," he elaborated, "I never planned that, I just _felt_ like I should have tried it." The gray clad Over-World player just stared at the table, as if it held some part of a cryptic answer. A sudden random thought struck him. "Hey Kaz, what time is it?"

"Time for you to start wearing a watch," Kaz muttered as he checked the time. "It's…oh crap, it's eleven forty-three! We should probably get home, I've got a history test first block tomorrow, and I haven't done any studying!"

"Aww man, that sucks." Tom agreed. "I guess we're takin' off then; see 'ya later guys!" He punctuated the statement with a smile and raced to the transporters with Kaz.

Tom's Earth-self was tired when he returned, a wave of exhaustion rushing over him. Quickly, the athletic teen removed his usual attire of grey shirts and blue jeans to slip into a pair of blue and white pajama pants with a soft, navy hoodie that sported a red star on the front. He pulled back his sheets, curled up under the covers and soon drifted into his dreamscape.

_The soft texture of moss met his feet with each step, squishing between his toes and tickling his heels; he allowed a smile to grace his features at this feeling. A gentle zephyr blew through the branches, tossing his hair slightly and carried with it a peaceful tune. The song was distant, yearning, and almost like a lullaby- it brought forth the sensation of a caring touch, like a parent soothing their child. He faced into the wind and inhaled deep and slow, closing his eyes to enjoy the awareness of some intangible force cradling him._

_He exhaled calmly and took in the scenery around him: the endless height of the trees that stretched far above him on every side and the small glimpses of the night skies between their foliage; he observed how the roots tangled and twisted on the ground, weaving a natural tapestry in the mossy carpet; the slight shifting of the shadows cast by the colossal flora. Then, he sensed the atmosphere of an existence far more ancient and powerful than his own. This did not frighten him; he knew that it meant him no harm. In fact, he had the impression that it was the reason he was invited here. But then, he heard footsteps that alerted him to another's approach. _

_He darted into a crevice between two tree roots, concealing himself as best he could. He had no idea who or what was coming, and it was better to err on the side of caution for now; after all, the music that echoed in his ears was playing quietly, as if encouraging silence and remaining safe from any possible threat._

_His fears were dashed as a familiar figure paced into view. It was one that he knew quite well and maintained a friendship with: Maxxor. He almost came out of his alcove to greet the Over-World leader, but the music flared up again, begging him to keep out of sight. It willed him to slink away, to leave this place lest he be discovered._

_Slowly he crept underneath the roots of the tree that currently shielded him from the green-skinned figure's notice. He concentrated on his breathing: deep, soothing breaths and easy releases to calm his anxious nerves. He had no idea that his foot was going to come down on a fallen branch._

_"Crack!" The small sound seemed louder than thunder in the stillness of the forest. Maxxor wheeled around and lashed out with a Pebble Storm attack that would have met its target if He had not deftly rolled to his side and avoided it. Now the music was shrieking in his ears, persuading him to run as fast and as far as he could to evade the Over-World's king._

_"I know you're there!" Maxxor challenged. "You should come out now, or else I'll come find you!" _

_The music instantly reacted to Maxxor's calls. It yielded to his demands and told him to expose himself briefly to the alerted king, if only to appease the green man's temper. Tentatively, He glanced out from his refuge behind a large tree, knowing full well that he was still shrouded enough to not uncover his identity. This thought struck him as weird, 'Why should I be hiding from Maxxor?' He questioned himself briefly. The music only twirled around in his ears, hinting at an answer that He did not understand. _

_Maxxor turned to see what little of the figure that he could, his eye scrutinizing the darkness for anything to recognizable. "Who are you?"_

_Before He could answer, the music swelled once more at a quickened tempo, swirling, clashing, and deafening his thoughts. He hid behind the trunk again, his hands clamped on his head, trying to think through the frantic notes and conflicting harmonies. He concentrated on hearing anything through the din, only to notice the steady footsteps that were drawing near. _

_He readied his position to sprint away._

_He woke up instead. _

The infuriating screech of Tom's alarm clock ripped through his hazy thoughts and brought him back to reality. He ran a hand through his sleep-tangled locks and grabbed supplies for his morning shower.

By the time that Tom had dried off, dressed in his usual ensemble, and inhaled his breakfast -like any other seventeen year old boy- he did not remember his dream, just that had had one and slept rather well.


	2. Chapter 2

To say that school was monotonous would be an understatement. As Tom sat in class, he was sure that the teachers had gone out of their way to organize a day that was exceptionally boring and absolutely loaded with homework. He had everything from bookwork in mathematics, to online research for science, assigned reading for English and history, and some menial tasks thrown in from his world language course and health. He _planned_ on finishing some of this work in study hall, but it was his final class of the day, and by then Tom's mind was utterly fried and devoid of the power it needed to process any information. When he slumped down into his chair and opened his history textbook, the sentences seemed swim and blur together into this blot of light gray on a field of white paper. He ended up just shutting the book, sighing, and taking out his laptop to see if he could challenge someone to an online Chaotic match.

After a few minutes of searching the challenge boards, the Over-World player found an opponent called 'Underhanded-Tactician' and began to strategize.

'Okay,' he thought, 'if the username is anything to go by, then they'll probably use Under-Worlders, so a majority of their attacks should be fire-based.' He glanced through his creature roulette quickly and selected his team: Unda, Owis, and Intress respectively. Tom grinned, selected his battle gear, Mugic, and locations before setting his deck and readying himself for the fight. Mere seconds later, he received the notice signaling his opponent's preparation time was over. "Lets' get Chaotic," he whispered to himself.

The battle turned out to be too easy; Tom had successfully conquered a newbie in less time than he previously thought possible. It was quite sad, really.

The walk home with Kaz was a pleasant contrast to the rest of the school day; the redhead had animatedly explained what had happened in his last period chemistry class. "So, the teacher gets up to show us an example of what to do with the wires, to make sure we don't set the whole classroom on fire," Kaz smirked. Tom rolled his eyes, he was pretty sure he knew how this was going to end. "Well," the green-clad boy continued, "it turns out that someone from the last class had left on the gas faucet on at the lab bench. And Mr. Scheyer didn't even notice! Seriously, he yells at us so much to check that we put our materials away and didn't splash anyone with face-melting acid that you'd think he'd check the lab station before he sparked the wire! Nope, he didn't do anything; I feel like he's a hypocrite." He mused over this statement briefly. "Anyways, he sparked the wires _right next to the faucet_, and the whole thing just flared up! It reminded me of a small Torrent of Flame 'cuz it got so bright! Next thing we know, the sprinklers turned on and put it out." Kaz grinned, "Mr. Scheyer's alright, but he looks kinda funny without his eyebrows."

Tom couldn't help but laugh, "I can't wait to see him tomorrow then. I bet no one's going to be taking him seriously for the next week."

"Yeah," his friend agreed, "they've already started calling him 'Fire-Hazard.'"

The homework assignments took a frustrating amount of time to finish. Tom had arrived home, ate a small sandwich for a snack, and got straight to work. However it still took him a good few hours and left him tired and unable to think clearly.

Tom shook his head to straighten his thoughts, he had an important meeting with his friends to make and he was going to keep his promise. He warmed up a pizza in the oven, ate it swiftly once it had cooled enough, and then raced upstairs to transport to Chaotic.

Once inside, Tom found Kaz and Sarah cheering on Peyton in a match, his Mipedian loving friend was facing a tough Over-Worlder opponent. He locked his eyes on the screen and physically flinched when a strong looking Rock Wave struck Peyton –who had been in the form of Qwun.

"Who's he fighting?" Tom asked as he pulled up a chair and placed himself to the right of his best friend.

"Some random guy he accidentally spilt a milkshake on," Sarah replied without looking away from the monitor. "You hear yet?"

"About what?"

"There's some freaky thing going on in the caves around Perim. Some players are getting lost and being found with huge scratch marks and bruises," Sarah elaborated. "The Codemasters are warning everybody to stay away from the deepest caves until further notice. They don't want to take the chance of having someone get coded."

"That's reassuring," Kaz stated bluntly. "'Don't go here, or you die.' That's a pretty straight forward message."

"I wonder if anyone knows anything," Tom thought aloud.

"Already asked Wamma. He's got nothing." Sarah muttered.

"H'earring doesn't know anything either." Kaz whispered as he turned away from the sight of Peyton coding his opponent –who was playing as Tangath Toborn- with one heck of a Power Pulse and using Siado's invisibility in a very effective sneak attack.

"Huh," was Tom's only reply.

The final part of the match ensued, and Peyton lost to a skillfully crafted stratagem that involved a Riptide blast, a cliff, and Glacier Plains' notoriously slippery terrain. Peyton returned shortly after, looking a little crest-fallen and dropped into his chair.

"Tough match?" Tom teased.

Peyton, picking up on the hinted sarcasm, responded, "Were you even watching, bro? The dude meant all business and was all like, 'You stained my shirt, now you must pay!' He tried to break me in half like how Chaor would snap Bodal in between his fingers! Did he even figure out that when he goes home it won't be there?"

"Probably not." Tom sighed, "And speaking of Bodal, I promised him I'd help rearrange some of the stock into place today. I should get going or else he'll give me a lecture on tardiness." The raven-haired boy visibly shuddered at this thought; Bodal's rants could go on for hours, and the small green man had been known to hold a grudge for weeks at a time.

"Don't let us keep you," Sarah teased, "you should get there to wait on his every whim."

"Seriously Tom, if you keep working there, Bodal's going to get lazy and rely on you too much," Kaz joked.

"If only." Tom retorted.

When the Over-World player stepped into the arsenal he was met with a rare sight: a flustered Bodal was scurrying around and shouting a quick succession of orders at his beaver-like assistant, Olkiex. The small Over-Worlder was rushing about in a flurry on flapping robes and his aid was lumbering frantically. Both looked like they were searching for something-shoving crates out of place, tipping out their contents and creating a mess- and knowing Bodal's severe case of OCD, it was most likely a minute detail. Tom almost decided to sneak out the door, but his conscience wouldn't let him. He _had_ volunteered to aid the arsenal keeper and his mechanic, so it wasn't as if he could back out even if he wanted to; he had given them his word, and if Tom knew anything about the Over-World and it's Creatures, it was that someone kept their promises and aided those who needed it…the crazed included.

"Uh, Bodal? What are you doing?" Tom asked tentatively.

Bodal whipped his head around and focused his widened eyes on the gray and blue clad human that was standing back-to-the-wall. "Do I look like I have the time to answer your trivial questions?" he snapped in reply. "I have been searching all day for one very important piece of equipment that's necessary to power a new piece of battle gear, but I can't seem to find it anywhere!"

"What are you looking for?" Tom tried his best to not show how uneased he was. He'd never seen Bodal so upset; Tom was so used to the dignified air that the Creature usually kept about himself that this unexpected sight greatly unnerved him. He didn't like the nervous atmosphere, not one bit.

"If you insist on prying, I happen to be searching for a Xaedlin shard." Bodal stated in a dull manor, much like his normal self; Tom relaxed a bit at this slight change. "Xaedlin shards are pieces of special crystals that can only be found in Over-World mines. They're much more unstable than the regular crystals utilized to maintain a power source for battle gear, but when they are harnessed the crystals can strengthen the intensity to an attack and-"

"Found it!" Olkiex cried out, smiling triumphantly and holding a strange, quarts-like blue crystal in the large palm of his bottom left hand.

"Oh, thank the Cothica!" Bodal brought a hand up and ran it over his face, to help soothe the tension away. He then turned to Tom with a weary expression, "Clean this mess up, would you?"

Tom checked the time. It was only ten twenty-six, but man, he was too wiped to care. He'd been lifting and re-arranging crates for the last two hours; he was pretty sure that it was mostly because Bodal just liked having a willing worker to boss around.

He stripped, pulled on his pajama pants, forewent the shirt for the sake of time, and plopped down on his bed, he was ready to fall into blissful sleep.

_It was strange to find this place empty; usually there were so many people in the streets that you had to fight your way through the crowd. He did not mind for it was peaceful tonight in the sleeping city of Kiru. He looked critically at the stone structures that created the Over-World's capital; the way the stones were fitted into seamless walls and the strategic heights of the buildings –the tallest of which was the palace. _

_He cringed away at that thought; he had no wish to be spotted by or run into Maxxor again. They did not leave on the best of terms the last time._

_Yet as the reminder of last night came, so did the mysterious song in the air. It was stronger, more confident but still gentle and caressing. It implored him to explore the streets and pick out the memorable parts of the city. For a moment, it seemed as if the melody had a voice, a voice that spoke a brief message amidst the swells and lulls of the notes. It was lost on him, however, but he still began to wander along the streets of the slumbering city._

Tom vaguely remembered his adventures from yesterday when he awoke the next morning. It was a Friday and he was looking forward to being able to relax for a few days. He stretched the sleep-induced sluggishness from his limbs, and half expected for his feet to hurt from all the walking he did last nig-

Wait, what? Tom paused for a minute. No, he didn't think he'd had the energy left to go trekking around Kiru City after he had finished moving the armory's stock back into the proper places. He'd been too tired to give much care to anything after he and Olkiex had brought everything back up to Bodal's incredibly high standard of organization. But he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd gone and looked at the buildings at night.

"Maybe I should take a day off," Tom grumbled as he stalked into the bathroom with his clothes.

Tom told Kaz about his strange revelation on the walk into school, his friends brown eyes reflected concern. "I've heard about some players dreaming of Perim after they play in Chaotic," Kaz had told him when they reached the high school's green. "So it's not really that uncommon. But if you want to take a break for the day, go right ahead. It might be better for you in the long run. I'll just make sure that no one tries to send you a challenge while you aren't there."

"Thanks, Kaz," Tom smiled. The two then parted ways and were absorbed into the flow of students that traversed the cramped halls of their high school.


	3. Chapter 3

Tom finished his assignments when he returned home -he was just that bored. Only a few hours had passed since he came back from school, but he honestly felt like it was an eternity for there was nothing to do. _'How do I stand this?'_ he thought as he slouched on the comfy couch that faced the television. He couldn't understand how half of him could put up with living like this anymore, he felt so lost without the constant struggle and adventure that Chaotic and Perim offered. Tom looked about the living room: the warm gray walls, the white sheer curtains, and the sparse dark-wood furnishings that his mother so loved. Yep, this was too normal for him right now.

But he needed this, he reasoned with himself. He didn't want to become too attached to Chaotic or Perim; it wasn't healthy for him to do so. He was not a part of that world, so he had to keep some distance between his reality and the one the Creatures got to live.

"It's all so real there," Tom mused quietly. The citizens of that world lived lives that closely paralleled those of their Earth counterparts; they had wars, unfriendly politics and parties that quarreled for power, clashing races and traditions, and belief systems as diverse as the groups that followed them. "They just have the power to do something about it," he spoke into the still air of the house. Growing tired of the silence, Tom searched for the remote and pressed the power button; he didn't really want to watch TV so much as he needed background noise to fill up the suffocating calm that weighed down upon the atmosphere.

He glanced at the clock on the DVR; it was five thirty-eight. "Great, Mom doesn't come home for another half hour," he groaned. Feeling drained, he looked up at the television that was currently spewing commercials at him. The Over-World player felt slightly indignant at the assault of advertisements and pressed a combination of buttons into the remote to pull up one of his favorite channels. More commercials. "Damn it," he sighed exasperatedly.

He flopped sideways on the couch, pulling up his legs and bare feet onto the cushions with him. Bit by bit, Tom began to feel tired, warmed into a lull by inactivity and comfort. He didn't notice that his eyes had flickered shut until the sound of his mom coming through the door awoke him.

"Tommy, I'm home!" She called into the house.

"'M in the living room." He answered in a voice hoarse from sleep. The soft steps of heels on carpet padded closer and Tom raised his head to see his mother peek into the living room and smile.

"Hi, Sweetie." Her bright blue eyes were happy, a sign that she was glad to be home with her only child after a stressful day at work. "How was school?" She asked as she took a seat next to his head and began petting the dark hair that resembled her own, though hers was much more managed and cut short in a stylish fashion that framed her face nicely.

"Nothing bad happened, so it was a good day." Tom replied and sat up, scooting over to allow his mother more room on the sofa.

She nodded, expecting the frugal answer. She remembered high school: the droning of the teachers, the boring feel of sitting through class, and how nothing seemed to happen unless someone went out of their way to make it happen. "I had a meeting today," Tom's mother continued after her reflection. "They want me to go to a business conference that's out of state for a few days."

Tom sat up at the worried tone in her voice. "What's wrong?"

"Well, I don't want to leave you here, and my sister's too busy to come down and watch the house with you-" She let the sentence hang. Tom understood her feelings; she didn't want anything to happen to him, she was just doing her job as a parent. "This conference is essential for the company, and it could help close a deal that we've been working on for months. But I can't just-"

"Mom, I'll be fine. I can lock the doors, keep the house clean, and make sure that everything is okay." Tom assured her. She turned to her son with a grateful, albeit tired expression and smiled. His mother then put her hand on his fore head, brushed back his hair and kissed his brow. Tom just sighed inwardly. This was a strange habit his mother had developed after she and his father had divorced years ago. The gesture was more for her really; it was physical proof that her son was there, that he was safe.

"Okay," his mom whispered in a small voice. She stood up and started heading for her room. Tom followed her to the hallway, but then turned into the kitchen.

"What do you want for dinner?" He shouted once he was at the granite-topped island that held the pots and pans in its cupboards.

"Anything that you don't burn."

Tom smiled to himself. '_It was one chicken. One. A one-time thing._' He recalled the scenario and replayed it mentally, snickering at its absurdity. There was a reason that the Majors always ordered out when Kaz was over.

Dinner had consisted of a homemade pasta salad that Tom was able to whip up in a few minutes. All he had to do was slice a few onions, chop up some bell peppers, throw in some diced tomatoes, boil up some bowtie pasta, and toss in some chicken and use some olive oil. It wasn't really too much in the way of a meal, but neither of the two were too hungry so it was enough to satisfy them both. After the informal dinner was finished, Tom retreated to his room to give his mother the quiet she needed to complete some paperwork that she'd brought home to finish.

He just lay down on his bed, already dressed in his pajamas and played around on a hand-held gaming system that wasn't his Scanner. A while later he grew bored of the tedious and nigh impossible boss-level that he must have had to restart at least twelve times and shut the infernal device off, placing it on his night stand. He glanced at his Scanner. It was so tempting to just reach out and transport to Chaotic. After all, Tom's Earth-self would still be there incase his mom needed him or wanted to check on him for anything. So tempting, but it wasn't enough; Thomas Majors was a stubborn pain in the ass when he wanted to be, so help him. It was just part of his nature to be determined to conquer any kind of challenge, even something as trivial as going a single day without speaking, or –in this case- spending an entire day without doing or saying anything that related to Chaotic. Strangely enough, he found the latter to be more strenuous.

Eventually, Tom slipped into a tired, trance-like state that many enter before they are fully asleep. He shifted around into a comfortable position, pulled his blankets up and allowed his mind to wander about aimlessly until his organized thoughts fell into dreamy disarray.

_There was a peaceful stillness to the scene. It looked as if the ground had perfectly mirrored the heavens above, reflecting the dancing auroras of green as they shifted and swayed silently. But He knew this was not so, for in the middle of the stretch of the glass-like 'ground' was a cliff that jutted out and held a castle that was shadowed in the night by the lights from above. The structure did not have any illumination peaking through its numerous windows, probably to keep from poisoning the night with its glare. Indeed, the secluded Lake Ken-I-Po had to be one of the most beautiful places in all of Perim._

_He glanced around at the path that stretched and wound its way to the castle from the shore; and for a second he thought he saw something move slowly on it. Unsure of this, he made his way to the forest's boundary that surrounded the lake and hid himself in the silhouette of an ancient tree there. He had made sure that he still had a view of the sky and the rivers of light that floated in it so effortlessly from his vantage point though._

_The strange song floated down to his ear once more, and he shut his eyes to let the tune play through his mind. He had begun to think of this music as company, for it reacted and changed moods like any other Creature would. He sighed contentedly. But then the gentle melody sent up a flare of sharp notes to grab his attention, alerting him to the presence of another being._

_"Who's there?" He posed the question into the night air softly, showing neither fear nor aggression to the approaching stranger._

_"An acquaintance," was the reply._

_'Oh shit,' he thought as his mind started to race. He readied himself to flee, but he couldn't bring himself to. He did not sense tension in the air about him, only the thirst for answers. He shifted uncomfortably, and the wandering refrain soothed his anxious mind; he was covered in the shadows of the tree's recesses so his new companion did not see him. He exhaled a breath that he didn't realize he was had been holding. _

_"Did you come to see the skies dance?" He asked, gesturing to the sky and the spectacle above._

_"No, I came here for a friend's advice." He felt Maxxor's gaze in the dark. He knew those amber eyes were searching for any recognizable detail on his person. "Who are you?" The Over-World king demanded in a harsh tone._

_"I don't know," He replied in a very small voice. "I…I'm figuring that out."_

_The green-skinned man flexed one of his hands. The music twirled in response, expecting a threat or attack and warned him to be ready to move. But it never came. The hand was threaded through Maxxor's wild mane instead, either in a vain effort to tame the locks or in a passive gesture that accepted the answer he had been given. _

_No one spoke. The only sound was the song playing dimly; it too was listening to the conversation._

_After a moment of strained silence, Maxxor sat down cross-legged and faced him. "Where are you from? Whom are you allied with?"_

_"I'm not too sure," he whispered. "I…I'm trying to piece that together too. It seems like I'm being pulled in different directions."_

_Once more, he felt the Over-Worlder's gaze pierce the dark, scrutinizing everything for a hint to his identity._

_"I'm a friend," he assured the king._

_A heavy silence settled over the pair._

_Maxxor stood up and walked away, determining that this conversation would not aid in his quest for any clear answers._

_'That could have gone better,' he mused when the footsteps of the Over-World's leader had vanished. He sunk back into the tree's embrace, allowing the music to drown out the world around him as he fell into his rioting thoughts._

The next morning, Tom woke up late and relished in the cozy feel of having had a great night's sleep. But that was not the only thing that came forward in his thoughts. Last night's vision had been so vivid compared to its predecessors. He could still hear the strange tune echo in his mind. _'What's wrong with me?'_ He wasn't sure.

A soft knock on his bedroom door pulled him from his reverie. "Tommy, I'm making pancakes," his mother called from the opposite side. "Do you want blueberry or chocolate chip?"


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn't long before Tom forgot the disquiet in his thoughts, or at the very least, it wasn't long until he pushed it to the back of his mind where it wouldn't be too much of distraction for the rest of the day. After his morning routine, he heard his Scanner buzz with the icon indicating a video-call from one of his friends. 'KidChaor,' Tom checked. _'What's Kaz on so excited about this early?'_ He accepted the call and then the familiar face of his friend showed up on the screen.

"TOM YOU WILL NEVER GUESS WHAT HAPPENED-"

"Geez, Kaz, it's too early for you to be yelling!" Tom interrupted. "You need to learn how to use your inside voice."

"Are you kidding me? I call to tell you a piece of news that would make your entire week but you're gonna tell me to shut up?"

"Not shut up, just calm-"

"DO NOT INTERRUPT ME AGAIN, SO HELP ME GOD, I WILL HURT YOU IF YOU TRY!"

_'Wow, what's got his boxers so twisted?'_ Tom thought privately. "Will you just tell me then?"

"Not with that attitude," Kaz teased.

"I'm hanging up."

"No! Wait! It was a joke!" Kaz started to sputter excuses. Tom just chuckled as the redhead's face almost turned the color of his hair. It was too much fun to mess with him sometimes. "Alright," he gathered his composure and spoke in an almost hushed voice. "H'earring told me that there have been multiple sightings of strange tracks appearing around Perim. He thinks that there's a few new Creatures out there!"

"Cool," Tom agreed, "but why did you think that this would make my week?"

"Because," Kaz began with a mischievous glint in his dark eyes, "rumor has it that these guys are so strong that they beat a Codemaster in one hit."

That got Tom's attention. "Where do I meet you, and when do we start a scan quest?"

"Port court. Right now."

"See ya in a sec."

Tom arrived at the table he shared with his friends in record time. He ran over and saw that his favorite Under-World player had packed him a bag. "I wasn't going to wait for you to pack."

"Thanks Kaz."

Within minutes the boys were off skimming the plains of Perim. They started scouring the Riverland's shores for fresh tracks, seeking out anything that wasn't natural or recurrent to the area, but the boys' search was fruitless and they ended up empty-handed.

From there, Kaz led them through a list of spots that H'earring had told him to investigate for any leads. However their sour luck continued and the only thing they acquired were painful sunburns.

"Well that was pointless," the Under-World player muttered bitterly.

"Yep," his friend readily agreed through grit teeth. "Is anybody even sure those Creatures exist? I mean, seriously, when you went to H'earring did you give him anything to eat?"

"No, I-"

"Then how do you know that he wasn't messing with you?"

Kaz stopped walking and his eyes widened –in bewilderment or rage, Tom could not tell- when he suddenly whipped his scanner out from his pocket saying, "You go do what you want, I'm going to track down that little green weasel and kick his ass so hard he'll have an impression of my heel on his butt for a month!" One second and a flash of code later, Tom was standing alone in the grassy field with a foul look on his face.

Having nothing better to do than waste time, Tom decided to take a stroll around some of his favorite routes in the locations he knew best. He leisurely walked through the stone streets of Kiru City, letting his feet guide him around and left his mind free to wander. However, it was not long before he began to notice the tense aura over the Creatures of the city; they seemed worried and a few of them looked frightened. Tom saw that a few avoided darker alleyways and were casting wary glances about the crowds of civilians.

The Over-World player was confused. Kiru City was normally inviting and cheerful. Many of the Creatures here interacted quite well with their immediate company, be it players, other Creatures, or a friend they came across in the crowd. "What's wrong with everyone?" he wondered aloud.

"So, you noticed as well."

Maxxor always enjoyed seeing the surprise on the human's face when he managed to come up behind him. Tom was expressive; more so than most players, and sometimes the Over-World King thought it was worth startling the human in order to ease his mind from the near-constant troubles of carrying a kingdom.

"M-Maxxor…" The teen's eyes widened as he turned on his heel.

The King felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. Yes, it was worth scaring his favorite human today.

Tom quickly composed himself into his relaxed stance once more, "Do you know why everyone is like this?" He cocked his head to the side slightly as he inquired; Maxxor was pretty sure this was an unconscious gesture.

Stress settled into the Over-World leader's shoulders once more. "No, I do not. I went to ask Najarin to see if he had glimpsed anything unordinary through the use of his scrying, but he had not found anything."

"What is scrying?"

Maxxor snorted softly in amusement. The humans and their lack of knowledge about basic arts performed in Perim could be entertaining.

"Scrying is when a Muge gazes into a pool of water that hosts a Mugician," he clarified. "It is done to help one see across Perim's great expanses, but Najarin cannot see something that isn't in the Over-World. He'd need a Mugician from one of the other tribes in order to see something in their territory."

"Oh," it was clear to him that Tom was trying to process the enormity of what could be accomplished with the simple task of scrying a location. "So, were you just coming from Najarin's?"

"No, I had done that last night. I was wondering if you and your friends might know something about another matter though."

"Really?" There was that surprised glint again, accompanied by curiosity.

"Yes. Have there been any sightings of strange Creatures in Perim by any players of your game?"

"Yeah, Kaz and I were just looking for some, but no luck." The gray-clad teen shrugged, "There are always rumors of new Creatures showing up, but most of them aren't real. Why, have you seen one?"

Maxxor regarded the boy carefully, grinding his fangs slightly. Keeping his eyes on Tom, he affirmed, "I believe I have come across the same one multiple times. On a walk through the Forest of Life, I thought I heard something. When I struck, someone fled his or her hiding place.

"And last night, I found it again when I was leaving Najarin's castle at Lake Ken-I-Po, I came across someone who I had thought was a spy for one of the other Tribes. But when I approached, I sensed the same presence of the Creature I had encountered a few nights before."

As he spoke, the leader saw some of the color vanish from Tom's face. The human knew something, but now he looked scared and sick. "Are you alright?" he asked, startled at the boy's reaction.

"Yeah," Tom croaked out.

"Perhaps you should rest."

Tom nodded, and Maxxor turned away, but he caught the soft retort muttered by the boy, "Resting is what I'm afraid of."

Before he could inquire about that statement, a flash of code enveloped Tom and he returned to whatever place the humans gathered at. It seemed that he'd have to save his query for later.


	5. Chapter 5

Tom felt like shit. His head reeled and his legs felt like jelly. When he transported back to the Port Court's terminal, he collapsed right where he materialized. _'They're real,'_ his mind struggled to process his muddled thoughts. '_All of that actually happened.' _

He didn't realize that Sarah was next to him until the blonde crouched down and pressed a hand to his forehead. "Whoa," she whispered, "you're burning up."

"I'm okay," Tom tried to convince her –albeit poorly. "I'm just a little dizzy."

"You can't stand."

"I'm fine."

"I'll help you to the table," she stated as if he hadn't protested. Sarah grabbed his arm, pulled him up to his feet, and began to lead him to their residential table.

"Sarah, I'm okay."

"No, you're sick, now shut up and sit down." She forced the Over-World player into a chair, which he promptly slumped in. The Danian player flagged down a hovering droid to deliver some water and a small order of fries for Tom to eat. She figured that having something in his stomach would alleviate some of his blatant discomfort.

Tom, however, was sickened further by the notion of food. He was still trying to grasp that he'd _genuinely been in Perim_ the past few nights and that those tense moments and strange music were real, not just figments of his weary consciousness. No wonder the experiences were so clear and the sensations were so vivid; they'd been real –at least, as real as anything he'd ever gone through in Chaotic before. It was overwhelming. How could he feel, or even exist in Perim if he hadn't transported his code there? It wasn't possible, and he definitely remembered transporting back home for each night. The situation just did not make any sense to him at all; it wasn't supposed to happen. _'Should I take it up with the Codemasters? No, what if they told me I was nuts and banned me from Chaotic?'_ He began to feel worse at _that_ particular thought. '_This can't happen…but if it wasn't real, then why did Maxxor know about the times I saw him in the forest and at the lake; how could he have known about how those dreams went without him being there too? How is this possible?'_

The question of 'how' was plaguing his mind, so he did not expect the familiar clap-on-the-back from Peyton when his larger friend seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

"Yo, Tom! I didn't expect to see you for a while. What's a matter? Your and Kaz's scan-quest not go too well?"

"Holy crap, Peyton," Tom gasped. "Don't do that." He ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, the quest was a bust. We think that H'earring tricked Kaz. Not too surprised though, Under-Worlders only do something when they get a benefit from it." He finished his statement with an attempt at a teasing smile. Instead he looked pained and uncomfortable- which was exactly what he felt.

"Dude, you should probably go home." Peyton looked his friend up and down. "You look kinda like what comes out of the end of a Mipedian Warbeast after it's been fed, if you get my meaning."

Tom repressed a fatigued glare. "Thanks, I love being compared to crap, Peyton."

"Seriously Tom," Sarah prodded as she sent a seething look over at Peyton, who was now putting his hands up in a passive 'I-didn't-mean-it' gesture. "Just sit down. If you don't feel good soon, then go home."

"Yes, _mom._" The raven-haired teen growled under his breath. Lucky for him, he wasn't feeling too well; Sarah would have decked him under normal circumstances.

A few minutes later, Tom was in a daze and resting his head on the table. He felt his pulse thrum in his ears, and he was unusually warm. Peyton was enthusiastically cheering on Sarah in her match, and didn't notice the silent suffering of his friend.

Everything was too loud. The smells were too strong. The light was too bright. Tom shifted his head but the new position yielded little relief from the onslaught of sensory stimulation.

When it became apparent to him that he needed to leave, he pulled himself up from his resting spot, only to have his vision blur and his head reel. The Over-World player slid farther into his seat and let a small grunt of frustration.

Peyton looked over at his miserable friend, whose face was shiny with a layer of sweat. "Uh, bro?" he asked concerned. "You sure you want to stick around? You don't look to good."

Tom didn't argue, he couldn't organize his thoughts well enough. _'Am I in shock or something?'_ He discarded the idea. It was very likely, but that didn't mean he wanted to believe it.

"Come on," Peyton hauled him to his feet, "I'll take you to the transporter, you need to go home. Like now."

The walk was easy enough, save for the pounding in the blue-eyed teen's head. They had just limped over to the transporters when a grating voice called out to them.

"Going somewhere?" Tom grit his teeth in response to Klay's jeer and heard the tell-tale clicking of the snob's shoes on the white floor of the main hall. "Well, at least when you leave the smell of wretched hopelessness won't be as potent in the air." Man, did Tom wish he could just punch the arrogant player right now…but that wasn't really saying much, he almost always felt that way.

"Beat it, Klay," Peyton snarled. He was not in the mood for any antagonism right now; he was a little too focused on his friend that seemed to be dying in his arms. Any other time though, Peyton would have beaten the cruel player's behind and readily shattered his ego in the dromes. "I'm a little busy being a good person. You might want to leave he area, dude, otherwise the kindness I'm radiating will make your face burn off."

"Charming," the greasy blonde sneered, "But I'm not here for you. I'm here to inform 'MajorTom' that he's got a match in eight minutes."

The Over-World player groaned. Who on earth would challenge him now? He'd noticed that the players who'd seen him leaning on Peyton had looked on with sympathy. "Who challenged me?"

Klay smiled and pushed his glasses back to their proper resting place on the bridge of his nose. "Me," he answered smugly.

'_Of course he did,' _the Over-World player thought sourly. "Can't beat me in a fair fight, so you challenge me when I'm feeling low, huh?" Tom said this a little loudly, attracting some attention of the players nearby. Others began watching the scene with interest.

"Hey, a win is a win," Klay shrugged off the accusation.

To the surprise of the two who were having the conversation, a few booing noises were made from a small crowd that had formed nearby.

"If you need someone to battle, I'll take you on right now!" one yelled out.

"Give the poor guy a break," said another player, "He looks like death. Let him go home."

Tom and Peyton glanced at each other. Tom wasn't a coward, and would face Klay if he had to, but he wasn't afraid of forfeiting a match in order to get his head back in order. The world was pitching and churning around him; he doubted he'd be able to stand up straight, much less battle against a tough combatant like Klay and his underhanded tactics.

Peyton was relieved. He secretly sent a thank you to the other players that had recognized Tom's inability to fight in his current condition.

Klay, on the other hand, was infuriated. "This isn't any of your damned business!"

"Hey," a female player stepped forward. Peyton thought he knew her, and was pretty sure she was a fellow Mipedian fanatic -just not as much as he was. "Isn't there a rule against challenging incapacitated players?"

Klay's face fell. "I've never heard of such a thing," he spat indignantly.

"Well of course you wouldn't have," was the biting retort. She pulled up a digital rulebook on her yellow Scanner. "Yep, her it is: 'In the event that a challenge is issued but one of the players is unable to either attend or engage in a fight, the match will be called off and the challenger will face penalties if he or she pursues their would-be opponent while they are recovering.'" She smirked victoriously.

Klay scowled and sent the girl –and the rest of the crowd- a venomous look. He stalked off, his pride clearly stung as he strut through the rush of players milling about the port court's grand chamber.

Peyton nodded thanks to the girl, helped Tom stand up on the platform, and waved at his friend as he ported out.

"So," he began, "how'd you find that rule so quickly?"

The girl blushed and whispered in his ear, "That isn't a rule, I was bluffing."

Peyton wore a poker face at the news –no need to alert Klay or his little spies to this revelation. "Hey, you want to get a burger?"

Tom was hopelessly tired when he re-entered himself. He still could not keep his bearings, and sank onto his bed with a heavy sigh. He didn't want to sleep, but his body was screaming for it. He'd been doing yard work all day while he'd been in Chaotic, so his muscles were aching after their extensive efforts.

"Wonder what it'll be tonight," he said with resignation as he dressed himself in his nightly attire. With one last glance at the red digits on his clock, his blue eyes closed and he fell into an inviting sleep.

_'It's almost like hearing the sound of the ocean,' he pondered as the breeze buffeted him and made the long strands of grass ripple in the fields before him. The stalks were ghostly silver under the moon – sharp contrast from their warm, golden shades under the sun- and moved in a rhythmic motion, much like the waves of a sea._

_The sky was clear of clouds overhead, just an endless swirl of stars and dark blue. The moon kept watch over them –the grass and its lone visitor- as the world rested silently below. _

_ He waited for the song to come on the wind, as it did before. A smile split his face when it finally found him again, dancing up into his ears and singing sweetly in the night. He relaxed and let the easy noise of the breeze swell with the music's melodies. _

_It was peaceful tonight, and he was content with that. As he grew more comfortable among the grassy knolls, he wondered if there was any significance behind his visit to this area. After yesterday's stressful confrontation, he had begun to search his memories for any links to connect the locations of his visits. So far, the only one's he'd been in were Over-World territories and they each were connected to the Over-World king; he'd seen him twice, and Maxxor lived in Kiru, so he must have been there a few nights ago as well._

_Did that mean that the leader was present tonight? The way the song twisted and tickled his ears told him otherwise. Tonight was about rest, and that was all._

_He settled down in a small dip in the turf and laid on his back to observe the heavens. He began to hum along with the melody that kept him company. After a few seconds though, he stopped abruptly. _

_The music twittered in his ears, inquiring about his reason for stopping. _

_He wasn't sure if he should voice his concerns; that was the problem, after all. Something about his voice seemed, well, different. But then he thought of the previous night, and how nothing seemed wrong then. _

_"I'm going insane," he whispered to the hushed dusk, only to find that strange quality in his sound once more. He sighed, ignoring his vocals, and closed his eyes. _

_The music lulled him once more, delivering a peaceful oblivion._


	6. Chapter 6

Tom didn't dream of Perim for the next few days; it relieved him and he went about his usual business with a bit more enthusiasm than he had before. He was more tolerant of the nuisances in school, immune to almost any enmity thrown at him by his rivals in Chaotic, and he managed to accomplish his tasks from Bodal at a more efficient pace. The Over-World player was in a good mood, and his friends were thankful for the contrast from the terrible and sickened state he'd been in only a little while ago.

Tom was currently outside the porting center and in one of the trimmed gardens that were scattered around Chaotic's large expanse. He sat in the shade of a large tree –he thought it was an oak- and was flipping through his virtual deck on his scanner while nibbling on a taco.

"What song is that?" Kaz sat down next to his friend, holding his own tray of food in his hands.

Tom looked at him confused, "What?"

"You were humming," Kaz pointed out. "I was wondering what song it was."

"I didn't even know I was humming." The Over-World player shrugged, "What did it sound like?"

"Some sort of Mugic?" his friend offered. "Never heard that one before. Where'd you hear it?"

"Dunno."

The redhead seemed to accept the answer and went about eating his lunch. "You might want to finish your taco before Peyton comes over and takes it," he said between bites of his cheeseburger. "He's been stealing everyone's food lately."

"Why do you think I came out here?"

"Because you've been spending a lot more time outside recently."

"I have?"

"Didn't notice that either?"

"I guess not."

It was two days later when Tom was walking along the grey paved paths around the Crellan drome when he first noticed it. It wasn't really too much of a deal, just that his hands were tingling a bit, like someone had splashed them with cold water. He examined them and upon seeing no physical hint at the strange sensation, he ignored it. However he wasn't able to do that for much longer. It gradually grew over the course of the next week, until his hands seemed to feel as if they were constantly bombarded with icy needles and water. It was an awkward sense, and sometimes it made him a little clumsy for he was not able to feel his entire movements. What was more bizarre was that the feeling was only present while he was in either Chaotic or Perim, never when he was living his life on Earth.

Tom's patience ran out on the ninth day. He stormed into the boy's bathroom, locked himself into a shiny metal stall, and pulled his hands out from being shoved in his pockets.

"Why in the he-" whatever the blue-eyed teen wanted to growl was lost as he fixated on his hands.

They weren't normal, that much he could tell at first glance, but why was harder to detect. He was positive that it wasn't just a trick of the light, and that there definitely a strange tinge to his skin. It seemed a little more yellow at his fingers and a little lighter –but still that yellowed shade- on his palms. This observation was confirmed as he rolled up his sleeves a little and saw the slight incongruity with his natural skin tone. "Oh shit," he breathed.

What was this about? This wasn't happening to him in the real world -was it- so why was it happening here? Immediately Tom recalled his strange dreams from a while back; were the two connected somehow? It was possible, or he was going nuts and making up correlations between unlinked events.

The teen didn't get to think too much else as his thoughts were interrupted by someone in the next stall asking for some toilet paper. He obliged by passing a handful under the stall's side and then shook off his nerves –well, only the ones he'd reveal through his expression anyway. He had a match in a few minutes that he needed to win, so he couldn't let this distract him from concentrating on the battles ahead.

When he returned home for the evening –after being crushed by another Over-World player who had finished him with Gespedan- the first thing he did was check his hands. To his horror, the same coloring was present.

How did he not see this earlier? Why did this even start, and when was he first being affected? Was he sick? No, he didn't feel any different, just bewildered at his sudden change in pigment. What if his mom saw? Oh man, she'd freak out; she'd probably drag him to the hospital or some other sterile facility where the doctors would stab him with needles. He shuddered at the thought.

"Tommy?" His mother's call from outside his bedroom door pulled him out of his panic and mystification. "You okay, you've been pretty quiet in there."

"I'm fine," he called back, thankfully with more confidence than he felt.

"Go to bed, I want you up and ready when I leave for the convention tomorrow."

"Okay." The Over-World player reluctantly got in his nightshirt and pulled on some pajama pants. He prayed that his hands wouldn't get any worse.

The next morning arrived at a sluggish pace after a night devoid of sleep. Tom barely shut his eyes; tortuous visions would seize his mind's eye when he did. He couldn't remember them in his mental haze, but he didn't care. His tired blue eyes just stared blankly at the ceiling, unseeing and impassive. God, he wanted to be able to dose blissfully without the discovery from the night prior lurking in his thoughts. Heck, he'd even take one of those weird dreams of Perim over just laying in bed miserable and exhausted.

But his stomach demanded sustenance, so Tom mustered up the strength he needed to rouse himself from his nest of blankets and get ready for the day. After a brief, cold shower to wake him up a bit, the raven-haired teen paused in the small bathroom to inspect his hands and digits once more. No visible change. Tom loosed a small sigh; at least there wasn't any new development to add to his restless, stressed conscious. At the next audible complaint of his stomach, he tore his gaze from his splayed fingers and wandered downstairs for breakfast.

His mom had received a call earlier that morning announcing that the conference was no longer partial to the deal that she needed to negotiate. She was pleased to share this news with Tom; he was secretly relieved at this as well. He and his mom had faced several adversities together, and had always found strength in one another when they were confronted with a personal challenge. If he couldn't figure out what was going wrong with him, at least he would have someone other than his friends in Chaotic to talk to if he needed it…even if he risked injections from lunatics in scrubs.

School only seemed to make everything worse. The workload had increased as teachers piled on projects and assignments all at once. This meant more time was spent either in his room or the kitchen as Tom slaved over trigonometry, physics, and anything else the evil overlords of academics threw at him daily. Consequently, the Over-World player had less free time to spend with his friends. It sucked.

One day in particular, he'd arrived at the Arsenal a few minutes late and was lectured about tardiness by Bodal. When the small green man finally asked for the reason of his belated arrival, Tom recited the most difficult problem on his trig homework for the evening. Bodal became curious and asked him to write it down. When he'd transcribed the problem, the Creature stared at it incomprehensively. He then apologized for jumping to conclusions, and told the human to go sweep the floor.

But the chores and stress of school were nothing to the encroaching discoloration of his skin that was progressing further and further. The numbness had left, but that wasn't any real comfort for in a few short days, his arms were tinged yellow up to his elbows. Tom was very thankful that most of his apparel was long sleeved so that he could hide this condition better, but he wondered how long it would be until his friends, or anyone else for that matter, would notice the change. So far, nobody had even taken a guess that something wasn't quite right.

Yet time kept flowing, the world kept spinning, and everyone moved on with his or her routines and responsibilities.

That didn't necessarily stop Tom from stressing at every advance the pigment made. When it came fully up his arms and started tainting his torso, as well as spread the diseased color to his legs, the raven-haired teen was paranoid. Every time he entered Chaotic it got worse; it put the thought of halting his transits and adventures in Chaotic and Perim into his semi-irrational mind. But Tom shook off the choice as quickly as it had come up. He didn't have proof that not traveling to the digital and parallel worlds would reverse the affects of his personal skin disorder, it would most likely just put unnecessary strain on his friends, and they didn't deserve that.


	7. Chapter 7

The day's walk home from school was very pleasant. The teachers –finally- lessened their burdens on the students. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, both Tom and Kaz had no homework to act as an obstruction to their day. The only downside was that they no longer had the topic of workload to gripe about, but it was a minor detail.

"How long has it been since we've had a day without any assignments shoved in our faces?" The Over-World player joked as he hefted his backpack strap into a more comfortable place on his shoulder –it was pulling on the deep cobalt hoodie he was wearing to ward off the nippy autumn air awkwardly.

His friend snorted, "Too long. I'm just happy I can breath properly now without a project being forced down my throat." A content grin formed on his face, when he suddenly seemed to light up with delight, "Oh, hey! You'll never guess what!"

"Uh, what?" Tom asked, slightly offset by his friend's change in volume and energy.

"Remember that jerk who was being a total pain to us earlier?"

"That Danian player?" Tom recalled the weasel-like player -with a sinister attitude toward anyone that didn't use his Tribe of choice- with bitter dislike. "Yeah, that guy was a racist."

"Tom, Tribal rivalries are different from racism; I don't really think that there are set races of Creatures anyways."

"Yeah, I hear 'ya." He complied with Kaz's argument. "But I'm still going to call him a racist."

His friend sighed, more out of humor than exasperation. "Well, I've got a match with him."

"And that's good how?"

Kaz looked at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "H'earring led me to this awesome piece of battle gear –I brought him some food this time- and I got a few scans of it." The ginger-haired boy reached into the pocket of his dark green windbreaker and retrieved his red Scanner. A moment later, he showed Tom the picture of the new addition to his deck. It looked like a cross between a jousting lance and a syringe with a storage wrist-pack connected to the weapon via two hoses that threaded into the handle. "It's called a 'Pestilancer.' It's an anti-Danian weapon that they just developed in the Under-World: the lance is both offensive _and_ defensive because of it's durability; the gas held in the lance and the tank is _hugely_ damaging to Danians, it can halve _all of their stats!_" Kaz's voice had fallen to an excited whisper, as if he was afraid that any random stranger could relay information of his new gear to his opponent. "I've been practicing with Sarah all week with this, so I've gotten the hang of using it in battle. By the time I'm done with him, 'DemoDan' wont know what hit him!" The Under-World player smirked with pride, "He'll also have to acknowledge that the Under-Worlders are the best in all of Perim."

"Kaz?"

"Yeah?"

"You're racist too." Tom teased with a smile.

"Tom, that means you are too. And everyone who plays Chaotic for that matter."

"I see your point."

A half hour later, and Tom, Peyton and Sarah were enthusiastically cheering for Kaz in his match. He was decimating his opponent's Creatures with tricks and barrages that played on hidden Danian weaknesses, probably at Sarah's instruction and advice. The current battle was in The Golden Heptagon, a hallowed hall constructed from a warm stone that shone an amber color under the glowing crystal light suspended from the towering ceiling. Sharp geometric lines and crevices decorated the vast walls of the chamber, providing many resourceful hiding spots to plan an ambush or a quick escape.

Kaz –in the formidable bulk of Chaor's form- was hefting his lance and gazing about the stadium-like field. He treaded heavily upon the sandy ground, sending up small dust clouds that eddied briefly after each step. He lashed his tail in annoyance and narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing every detail he could to find the other combatant's lair. He growled in frustration, "Where are you hiding, Dan?"

A blur of movement on his left caught his attention, causing him to whirl around and release a cascading green blast from the Pestilancer in his grip. However, his opponent was nowhere to be found in the settling cloud of dust from the weapon's attack. A low laugh mocked him, "Really Kaz? You're still trying to beat me with that old thing?" Kaz -in the guise of the demon-like Creature- turned about, trying to discover the direction on Dan's voice in the echoing chamber; the effort was fruitless for the rock walls continued to redirect and reverberate the sound. It was infuriating.

Another laugh, this time it possessed an edge instead of just pointed humor. "I _did_ learn in the last few matches you know," Dan elaborated. "That's a more favorable trait among the Danians; they're quick learners and smart soldiers. Unlike those impossibly dense Under-Worlders that you admire so much, the Danians will adapt to their situation instead of relying on brutish tactics and brainless strategies."

"Maybe they're cowards too," the gravely voice of Chaor bellowed into the air as Kaz spoke his piece. "You're too scared to fight so now you're hiding! And you call yourself a _'real'_ Chaotic player," he scoffed in disgust.

"If you want a fight," Dan's voice resonated, "then have one!" The sentence was punctuated a green flurry of Power Pulse blasts that struck Kaz's back, making him try to leap out of the way only to land hard on the ground as a solid impact connected with his huge form.

The weight on his shoulders and neck told him that Dan was on top of him. He felt a foot force his head down into the sandy arena floor, trying to grind him into the dust. "Satisfied with the match yet?"

Kaz suddenly bucked the other player off of him, and rose to his feet –aiming his lance as he did. He was surprised to get a better view of Dan's Creature than what he'd gotten in the drome between the location changes.

Dan was in the form of Tarin, a four armed and heavily plated Mandiblor of an earthy brown shade. Tarin nearly stood parallel to Chaor's ten-foot height, while the rest of his body was well developed sturdy; he had a lot of muscle under his exo-skeleton. His four green eyes held a sneering expression that his mandible ensconced face could not show, "What? Did you expect some other Mandiblor?"

"Nah, most of the hive look too similar to me," Kaz derided, knowing he was provoking his opponent –as well as a few Danian players that were watching his match.

An aggravated hiss escaped from Tarin's scaled mouth. "You ignorant bigot! Each and every Danian is unique and more talented than the perverse and crude Tribesman of the Under World combined!"

Back in the port court, Sarah had clenched her hands into fists and took deep, slow breaths to calm her rising anger. "When Kaz gets out," she snarled, "I'm going to kill him."

"You may not have to, Sarah," Peyton commented. "Dan's barely made a move and he's already got a huge advantage here."

"Like what?" Tom asked.

"Well, his location got picked," Peyton answered, "and this particular one allows you to cast any type of mugic, even if it's from another Tribe."

"Oh. That's pretty big," Tom affirmed. He mentally noted to find and scan that location soon.

The group silenced their banter as they saw Kaz unleash his fiery fury on screen. He'd apparently lost his battle gear while they were talking to one another, and now had to use Chaor's personal attacks, but that was okay –no player knew the red Creature's strengths or weaknesses quite like Kaz did.

A rush of flame was surging toward Dan, who remained still. He shouted into the grand chamber just before the fire was upon him, "Aegis Aria!" Within a millisecond, the symphonic sound of the Mugic filled the arena and the Kaz's attack was rendered useless. Kaz growled and charged forward, ready to rain down hammering blows with his Creature's claws and fists.

Tom stared at the on-going battle with captivated interest. But then, Dan's Mugic activated, and the melody played. Yet this was not the Aria he expected to hear: the sound that had haunted his dreams and adventures in Perim began tolling in its stead. "Guys, do you hear that? Something's wrong with the Mugic."

"No, it's playing the right one." Sarah replied offhandedly, dismissing Tom's statement in favor of watching the clash of combatants.

"Yeah man, you probably just haven't heard the Aria in a while."

"Maybe." Tom didn't really agree with his friends, nevertheless, he kept that doubt to himself. But then after the effects of the song wore off, the melody still persisted in his ears, growing louder by the second. Tom glanced around the port court, searching for anything out of the ordinary, yet things were as they should have been –save for the ongoing music remaining in his head.

He turned back to the screen displaying his friend's fight to see Tarin's spindly fingers wrap around a Mugician's Lyre as he strummed a chord. The sound only added to the increasing noise, intensifying its presence.

"Unbalancing Battlesong!" Dan shouted into the stadium once more, summoning another refrain.

Tom felt pain spike through his head as the infernal song roared in his ears. He suddenly had a pounding headache, like his skull was going to split open. He fell into his chair, but his friends were oblivious to his plight –they were too engrossed in the rising excitement of the match.

The cacophony steadily grew until it was unbearable; Tom grasped his raven locked head in a vain attempt to block the noise. His eyes started watering and he suddenly felt suffocated among the throng of players that were cheering and gazing at the screens broadcasting battles. He grit his teeth as his senses became overloaded. The sounds of the un-earthly music shrieked in his mind; the white lights of the port court seemed to grow brighter until they were blinding; the ache in his body became a brutal throb that pulsed with his frantic heartbeat; and his breathing became labored as the air around him turned foul smelling and hot. His head was spinning with vertigo. Tom tried to sit up in his seat, but that only made the world around him teeter and twist in a nauseating fashion. Next thing he knew, someone was patting his back as his stomach ejected its contents.

"Whoa! Dude, you really need to go home. You're so sick you're turning yellow." Peyton's voice shattered through the raging refrain in Tom's head. Suddenly, his ears popped and everything was returned to normal, a stark contrast from the sensory overload. His water-filled eyes met the worried faces of his friends and other players, who all seemed to be looking down on him. He didn't speak as he felt himself being pulled up and supported by Peyton and another player he didn't recognize. His thoughts were muddled, the only one he could understand clearly was _'How did I get on the floor?'_

The grey-clad Over-World player was more or less dragged to the main transporting hub, where he was sat down on a platform and Peyton instructed him to take out his scanner, port himself home, and 'Get yourself right, bro.'

Tom could only nod wearily, he felt too drained to talk and his head was still careening and swirling with incoherent thoughts. He reached into his pocket and withdrew his Scanner, then pressed the button to transport himself home. He disappeared with a relieved sigh and wave to his friend.

Peyton watched Tom's form blink out in a flash of code. A feeling in his gut twisted into a knot, _'Something isn't right here.' _Regardless, the Mipedian player returned to his spot with Sarah to finish observing his other friend's battle. Tom could take care of himself; he was dependable like that. He shook off his worry and settled back into his chair.


	8. Chapter 8

Tom relaxed as he felt the familiar sensation of returning to his body. His eyes were still shut as he inhaled a deep breath of the clean, earthy scented air an-

Wait, what?

Blue eyes snapped open. He wasn't home. He wasn't in his room. But he was in his body.

Oh. Shit. He was in Perim.

Tom turned wildly, trying to assess his position. He was currently standing in a somewhat circular dark brown patch of earth, nearly thirty feet across, which was surrounded by thick tree roots that arched over him in a similar fashion to a vaulted ceiling. It was darker than normal, for there were only a few places that light could stream in from between the crevices of the substantial flora's tendrils.

He didn't know what was more amazing to his befuddled mind: that he was _physically in Perim_ in an unknown place, or that he was under a tree; he wasn't certain if the latter was important at all. His head refused to cooperate and comprehend the situation, letting uncertainty grip him tightly. _'Oh my God, what just happened? What the hell is going on?'_

Tom brought up his Scanner and pressed the buttons that would usually return him home. Nothing happened. He tried another sequence. The only thing that occurred was a sinking feeling in his chest. Next, Tom tried to contact one of his friends. No signal. In a panicked need to have _something_ work like it should, the Over-World player scanned the immediate area. _'Location not registered'_ were the words that displayed themselves impassively on his screen.

The teen's thoughts became a whirlwind once more as he tried desperately to understand his predicament; it was all too clear and too distorted at the same time: _he was in Perim, with no way out._

An icy sensation crept up his spine as Tom sank to his knees. The ground underneath his legs felt cold through his jeans, which only added to the lonely chill. He didn't understand. What had he done to deserve this? Was this some sort of strange karma induced punishment?

What was happening to him? He felt numb and stupefied. He allowed his arms to drop to the ground, fingers splayed against the bitter earth.

Tom barely had time before a blazing pain abruptly wracked his body.

He gave a short yelp as he started trembling uncontrollably. The pain from the port court returned even stronger than it had been before; splashes of red danced in front of his vision for a moment. Tom's breathing turned into ragged gasps as he forced himself to stay up in his position, hands and knees bracing him against the ground. Tears flowed from his eyes, and he stared in horror at his hands –something that he'd done regularly it seemed. Once more his skin was changing color, the pigment was darkening, and it took him a moment realize just what was happening. It was turning _green._

Dread seized him as he tried to will the change to cease; yet it progressed onwards. Soon, the teen was doubled over in a fetal position, sobbing and uttering soundless screams as he felt his body change. There was audible noise as his bones re-aligned and grew; his muscles were twitching and convulsing to accommodate the changes in his skeleton's rapid development. He felt like electricity was surging in his veins and attacking his nerves. His scalp tingled and burned as his hair grew longer, thicker. He clenched his jaw as a sharp pulsation made his teeth ache.

Tom curled tighter on himself, keeping his eyes firmly shut. His heart beat wildly as he tried to bear the agony of the transformation.

He would not give in to fear, he would not allow himself to succumb to the pain.

Try as he might, he was enduring a tortuous sensation that defied what he thought possible. What was most disturbing though, was that as it continued, he felt himself shift and morph into something _inhuman_. Through some miracle, relief came to him.

It was not a person, but it had a voice that rang through Tom's delirious pain.

It possessed no limbs, but it had a touch that soothed his body.

It was a song, the ever-changing one that Tom had heard many times before. It lulled the altered human into a peaceful state and relaxed his tremors. It sang in an unspoken language without words or speech, yet conveyed its message with clarity: '_it is all right; you are where you are meant to be. I am with you, you are safe.'_

What seemed like hours later, but was only a few minutes, the transformation ended and Tom's breathing became normal once more. His hummingbird heartbeat slowed down to a normal pace and he reveled in the soothing song.

Gradually, Tom regained the mental prowess to think straight. He began to organize his thoughts, keeping his eyes closed; he wanted to prepare himself for what he'd find. He uncurled himself. His muscles felt cramped and a little sore, but surprisingly, that was it. Next, he flexed his fingers and toes, counting them one by one as they moved: only sixteen, not the twenty he was used to. That unnerved him, but the music quickly eased away that fear. Then he noticed the feeling of skin-on-earth. Either he had torn his clothes in his metamorphosis, or whatever force had changed him had done so with them as well. He was pretty sure it was the latter, he hadn't felt or heard his clothes tearing.

He took a shaky breath and his eyes fluttered open. Tom rolled over and sat up, trying to take in his new appearance without hysteria ensuing. As he saw before, his skin was now an even shade of green –lacking distinguishing marks or patterns-, the color was reminiscent of budding leaves. He looked down at his hands; only four digits on each, though they were larger than he human hands he'd had only minutes ago; the same, he noted, was true with his feet –which were now exposed- as well. Observing that his arms were now uncovered. He saw that instead of a shirt or tunic covering his torso, it was a shirt akin to a tube top, reaching below his armpits and concealing from his chest down to where his pants rested just above his hips; thank whatever power was watching over him because they had pockets. Both articles were gray, the shirt –if that what it was- was darker than the baggy pants. Out of curiosity –and part of him wished to see how thorough his transformation had been- he checked his underwear. They hadn't changed much, just their color and a slight alteration to the cut. Tom ceased that particular investigation and made to stand up.

Upon achieving this feat, he realized his center of gravity had changed, and that he felt much taller than before, roughly a full head in fact. But he kind of expected that, most beings in Perim were significantly taller than most humans. Heck, even Maxxor stood eight and a half feet tall without the peaks of his hair. A quick check of his body revealed that he was lean and lacked the sturdy physique of a warrior, but still had an athletic build. He ran a hand over his face, then through his thick hair that fell below his shoulders in a wild mane.

The music twirled softly in his ears, as it had when he'd experienced it before. Tom relaxed and listened to its tittering high notes and resolute bass tones while he absorbed his current situation and form. With the aid of the song's mellowing affect, the adolescent Creature came to terms with everything quickly, at least for the present anyway.

A slight thirst tickled the back of his throat, and Tom felt the need to satiate it, as well as learn about the area he was in. He never liked being in a place he didn't know well for too long, he didn't know what could happen. Tom picked up his Scanner and tucked into his right pocket, just incase he needed it –though he doubted it'd work for him now.

He made his way to the rim of the arched roots and searched for a spot that he could fit through. Eventually, he found a gap that he could slip out of easily and emerged from underneath a towering mass of roots connected to a colossal tree that dominated over the forest surrounding it. Tom looked about in wonder, recognizing the landscape from his very first dream of Perim. The tree he'd been under was the one he'd shielded himself with from the Over-World king's attack. Swallowing the sensation of déjà-vu, Tom left the area and sought out a body of water.

He heard the quiet lapping of lake waves nearby and turned in its direction. It was a small struggle –trying to balance and coordinate his movements while moving in a newly re-calibrated body- but eventually he made it to the grove where the tarn resided. The music faded from his ears, leaving him to his thoughts about the beautiful place he was in.

The tree line did not reach the shore, but the roots cascaded in braids to the clear waters. The canopy of leaves overhead provided an awning from the midday sun that shone brilliantly through the gaps between the branches. There weren't any weeds or pond scum polluting the lake itself, and Tom could clearly see the bottom through the glassy surface. He slowly made his way out to the mossy shore and settled himself at the pond's edge. Brief though his walk was, it was still more tiring than it would have been normally; but then again, this was not an average day.

Tom found the water to be surprisingly cool, yet still pleasant, after tentatively dipping in a hand. With thirst scratching his throat once more and deciding 'caution be damned,' Tom scooped a few handfuls and brought them to his lips.

After he quenched his thirst, the former human slid into a more comfortable position against once of the large root tangles to his right. Tom began to evaluate the scenery before him -mostly out of habit- and ponder strategies that would possibly benefit him with such a place during combat. _'It's so peaceful,' _he remarked. He came to the conclusion that although the location would mostly likely be useless as a battleground in the dromes, he'd still want to scan it. Carefully sliding his Scanner out of his pocket, Tom aimed the camera at the quiet lake and pressed the capture button. To his aggravation, the words _'Location not registered' _flashed on the screen once more.

He nibbled his lip out of frustration, only to be reminded that he now had fangs by a sharp prick of pain. Sighing, Tom looked out at the lake again. "What's going on with me?" he mused aloud. No answer came -not that he was expecting one- and silence hung heavily upon his shoulders. He glanced downward and caught his reflection, a sight that both perplexed and surprised him.

Tom had guessed that he'd see a different face the next time he was presented with a reflective surface, it just seemed fitting with the rest of his new shape. Actually seeing it, however, was a different experience all together though. An inverted triangle jaw line defined his face, highlighting his cheekbones and brow. The rest of hi features seemed gentler though; his eyes were a tawny hazel, as if they couldn't decide whether to appear brown or green. His nose was still straight, but it was proportioned correctly to his face –something, he'd noticed, that wasn't always consistent with the green-skinned Over-World Creature's he'd met, like Vlar and Maxxor. He had a widow's peak that let his messy locks hang in his face. All in all, Tom thought that if he'd still possessed his natural skin tone, he'd appear somewhat elvish –like in those _Lord of the Rings _movies that he and Kaz'd pulled many all-nighters watching- the newly pointed tips of his ears only bolstered that opinion.

It was then that the gravity of the situation fell upon him. Staring at his own reflection had broken what little inner stability he possessed.

He was in an entirely different world, in a location that was completely foreign to him.

He was alone.

He wasn't even truly sure of _what_ he was at the moment either.

What would he do? Where could he go? He was lost in some forgotten part of the Forest of Life, the largest wood of the Over World's vast territories. He didn't know what was safe to eat; he didn't know how to survive in the wilds of an unknown world. The longest scan quests he'd gone on before were only a few days, and he'd always had packs full of supplies before! And what would happen if he somehow escaped the forest; what would he do then? Go to Kiru? His Scanner wasn't being cooperative so he'd have to walk, and Kiru was almost half way across the Over World from the forest's location! Besides, what could Tom possibly do if he made it to the capital? He couldn't just approach someone and tell him or her the truth; they'd think he was insane! As the hopelessness of the situation hit him, a nauseating urge rose within the boy's gut, and the youth vomited over to his left.

Feeling both feverish and chilled as the waves of sickness quickly passed, Tom pulled his knees to his chest. He'd never felt this way before –honestly alone- for he knew that he'd had people to rely on. He had friends, his mom-

The thought struck a chord. _'Oh no, Mom!' _Tom felt this throat clench and his heart skip. _'She'll freak out when she doesn't find me in my room! Oh God, she doesn't deserve this, not after dad!'_ He pushed his self-pity aside; it could wait, his family could not. He had to find a way back to the human world –_his_ world. He needed to change himself back to normal. A cynical smile crossed Tom's face as he pulled himself up from the ground. He and Kaz had always discussed about what it was like to be a Creature before; the youth thought it ironic that now he'd been transfigured into one, one of his first priorities was reverting back to normal.

The former human glanced about him one more time, committing the location to memory; if he couldn't secure a scan to warp to, then he may as well burn the image into his memory for later. He glanced down at the blue Scanner still resting on the mossy ground, picked it up, and in one final attempt to get the infernal device to do something, aimed the camera at himself. With a tap of his finger, a picture was taken and Tom flipped the small appliance over in his hand.

_Creature not registered._

"Figures," he cursed under his breath.

It was going to be a long day.


End file.
